Memories
by adahleida
Summary: A few years after Kirk disappeared into the nexus, Spock and McCoy spend an evening reminiscing. Which leads to a rather… fascinating development in their relationship.


**Title:** Memories

**Author:** adahleida

**Summary:** A few years after Kirk has disappeared into the nexus, Spock and McCoy spend an evening reminiscing. Which leads to a rather… fascinating development in their relationship.

**Wordcount:** 2529

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** Implied boysex? I really don't think this should be a warning at all, in this day and age I would like to think people wouldn't be so horrified by something as harmless as homosexuality… but some people are still offended by such things. So you have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Star Trek and all its characters do not belong to me. *sigh*

**Beta Reader:** DancingDragon3... who beta'ed in detail without even being asked, thanks girl, you're awesome!

**Preface/Author's Notes:**

Well, here's my first go at a Star Trek story. My self-given prompt was to write a character piece... without using any dialogue. I managed to stick to it right up until the very end, where everything I wrote without dialogue was overly complicated and, basically, sucked. If you take the time to read please take just a little extra time to comment and let me know if you think I got the characterizations right. And, of course, please post any other comments and concrit as well, they are worth their weight in gold! Thanks in advance!

* * *

One would think their first kiss would have been tentative. Having been friends for so many years but never having touched in this way, hesitancy would be the logical reaction. Even the effects of copious amounts of alcohol shouldn't have been enough to dull the fact these two men had never before touched each other in the manner they were right then, on the couch right there. But there was no hesitancy to be seen. Only long kisses, and hands lovingly roaming over bodies never before touched, but still intimately familiar.

It had begun as an evening of remembrance. It had been five years since James T. Kirk's... disappearance. Presumed death. On the way back to Earth from a medical consult on Rakella Prime, Dr. McCoy was accosted by old memories. Spock, at his home on Vulcan, had given the doctor an entry code and pronounced him welcome to visit or make use of the house at any time. Like each other or not, a lifetime of service had drawn them close. Jim had drawn them close. And when Jim went... Both of them, quite illogically and perfectly logically, found comfort in each other's presence. Each made it a point to visit the other often.

This trip was a sudden and unplanned detour on his way back to Earth, so McCoy arrived on Vulcan unannounced and late at night. He simply took one of the automated public transport trains to Spock's house and let himself in. Spock had already retired for the night, so McCoy made himself comfortable in the spare room, and left a PADD with a greeting on the kitchen counter. When he awoke he found a reply saying Spock had been required to go in to work early and would return that evening, and a plate of fresh pancakes. For the umpteenth time McCoy blessed that crazy Vulcan's mother for teaching him at least some human ways. He ate, and settled in. Spock returned in the late afternoon to find him ensconced in a stack of Vulcan medical literature, slowly sipping his second whiskey. It wasn't until Spock came to join McCoy on the couch, carrying a bowl of the plomeek soup that McCoy had made as a response to the pancakes, that the photo album was noticed.

It was an old-fashioned photo album made of synthetic paper; the pictures printed out hardcopy and attached to the pages. McCoy had found it while raiding Spock's library. Almost all of the personal snapshots Kirk, McCoy, Chekov, Sulu, Uhura and Scotty had taken during the course of their missions together were inside. McCoy marveled at how much effort the Vulcan had put in to assembling the album. Spock had very few pictures of his own from that era. At the time they were taken he believed the practice was illogical as his extensive memory was more than adequate to recall his life's events. It marveled them both how much one person's absence could change another.

Spock glanced at McCoy questioningly when he saw the album on top of a stack of Vulcan Science Academy medical journals. McCoy grinned devilishly and made a crack about the Vulcan's sentimentality beginning to leak out in his old age. Taking the teasing as Spock only ever would, stoically, he sat down directly next to McCoy, placed the album's front cover on his right leg and back cover on McCoy's left, opened it to a photograph of what appeared to be a large rock, and began to describe the challenges of melding with such a physiologically different creature's brain. McCoy, remembering that particular mission with clarity, spoke of how simultaneously frustrated and thrilled he could get over the latest crazy miracle Jim would order him to perform. When McCoy mentioned the Captain Spock paused for a moment, then reached for the whiskey and poured himself a glass.

McCoy was not surprised. He'd known the Vulcan to indulge on occasion. Before Jim's death it was usually to humor the Captain. Afterwards, it was still to humor him. Spock would mentally fill in what he knew would be the Captain's reasons for him to indulge, and simply acquiesce to the absent argument. It was the Vulcan's quiet way of acknowledging the holes in his life, ripped out by the disappearance of his beloved. McCoy never teased Spock about this. Although it was never openly discussed, he was more than aware exactly how close Jim and Spock had become. He also knew that Spock refused to give up Jim as dead. When McCoy first learned this it was suddenly and completely confirmed for him that Spock and Jim had developed a powerful mental bond. After all, Spock would be the last life form in the known universe to indulge in illogical, completely unwarranted hope, and how else could he be so certain that his Jim was alive, and yet unreachable? McCoy understood, and he mourned deeply for Jim. And also for Spock.

Spock downed the shot of whiskey and blanched somewhat, and then stood up abruptly. Cutting McCoy off mid-quip, he strode over to the kitchen and came back a moment later with another bottle. He set it on the coffee table beside the whiskey and poured himself another glass. Romulan Ale. Now McCoy was surprised. His medical training told him that Vulcans were not affected by human alcohol, although his experience as Spock's physician told him that Spock's human blood would allow him to become mildly intoxicated if enough of the drink in question were consumed. But Romulan Ale, a substance designed for a sub-species of Vulcan, would definitely do the trick. It appeared to McCoy that Spock wanted to join him in getting shitfaced. He looked at the Vulcan with a mix of concern and amazement.

Spock ignored the look and re-opened the album on their laps, this time to a picture of McCoy holding a humanoid infant. Written beneath the photo was "Leonard James Aka'ar, age approx 1.53 days". McCoy was immediately distracted from his concerns, lighting up at the sight of his namesake. He proceeded to regale Spock with all the latest news about the child, who was now a handsome young man and turning out to be an excellent leader for his people. There was even a possibility that the planet would be accepted into the Federation under Leonard Aka'ar's guidance. At this news Spock's eyes crinkled slightly around the edges, his chin tilted upward, and both eyebrows rose slightly: a gesture Jim had insisted was a smile.

As the sun went down and the stars began to trace their paths across the night sky pages were turned, memories were re-discovered, and old arguments were rehashed. The two men verbally jousted with the same fervor and stoicism, the same ear-related insults, and the same calm, stubborn rationality precisely calculated to drive McCoy straight up the wall, that these two men had shared for years. A passerby overhearing with his sensitive Vulcan ears would have been surprised to learn these men were enjoying such a seemingly vicious debate. In fact, directly under the surface an affection of the highest form ran between them: terrible, horrible, flat-out mean and nasty teasing. It had become a code of sorts, a secret language shared between them, whose true meaning only they could decipher. But as both bottles were slowly drained to empty, their moods calmed and the conversation slowed to a halt. Drinking the last drops of whiskey straight from the bottle, yawning luxuriously, and stretching arms and legs out as far as possible earned McCoy what could only be called an affectionate look of mild reproach. Spock did not, however, remove McCoy's left arm when it came to rest against his right shoulder. Instead, he simply reached for the album that had fallen to the floor between them. Then, halfways bent down with arm still outstretched, he froze.

Despite the delicious sweet feeling of warmth, light, and honey flowing though his veins, warming him from head to toe and making the oppressive Vulcan gravity feel a little weaker, McCoy still noticed Spock's abrupt change of mood. He looked down to see the Vulcan staring at a photograph that had not been affixed to any page in the album. Instead, it had fallen out of a folder in the back of the album, one designed to hold the pictures that had not yet been sorted. To his amazement, it was a photograph McCoy had taken himself. Staring at it, he felt an alcohol-assisted rush in his ears as he was suddenly brought back in time to the moment the snapshot had been taken. They had been assessing the colonization potential of a new class-M planet: standard procedure for any planet without intelligent life forms. In typical Kirk fashion, the Captain had assigned himself, Spock, and McCoy to the survey team beaming to the most temperate and beautiful area of the planet.

McCoy remembered how frustrated he'd been with the ship's new holoimager as he'd attempted to take scans of their surroundings. Mashing buttons at random and just about ready to smash the thing onto the ground, he'd somehow managed to activate the snapshot function. He'd captured an image of Spock and Jim from afar, through the high-powered zoom setting he must have switched on at some point. Standing in a meadow the Captain held a small furry creature in his hands, staring at it with a look of pure amazement and joy. Jim's wind-blown hair, radiant smile, and relaxed posture as he held his new discovery in front of him was completely hypnotizing. He was glowing with excitement and fascination and that strange gravitational attraction of his: that presence that drew people inexorably towards him. Spock stood behind him, in sharp contrast. Standing to perfect attention with hands clasped behind his back and not a hair out of place, he was simply gazing at Jim. The gaze itself, however, gave Spock away completely: he regarded his Captain, his Jim, with complete, utter, unreserved, fearless love. Somehow, without ever moving a muscle of his perfectly Vulcan face, he managed to look at Jim in such a way that one would not doubt for a second Spock would walk through hell and back blindfolded if Jim were to ask him. In one simple accidental act, McCoy had managed to capture the very essence of the bond between his two friends.

Spock stared at the photograph, remaining motionless for several minutes. Finally, unable to think of anything else to do, McCoy reached out and wrapped an arm around the Vulcan's back. Touch broke Spock's trance and he sat back up and faced McCoy. They sat like that together for several seconds, McCoy's arm still holding Spock, silently communicating a whole conversation: Spock asking forgiveness for his emotional outburst, McCoy's concern, Spock's reassurance, McCoy's disbelief, and finally, Spock's admission. His brief struggle to hold back tears revealed the true depth with which Spock felt the loss of his other half. Without even thinking McCoy reached up and brushed away the forming drops of moisture, attempting to convey the bottomless pit of darkness and agony he felt for his friend, as well as the infinite mountain of support, and yes, loathe to admit it, love. Love for the green-blooded hobgoblin he currently held in his arms.

Spock flinched as if he'd received a static shock when McCoy's fingers brushed his cheek, wiping the tears away. The doctor began to word an apology, but the Vulcan quickly grabbed the doctor's hand, pressing the index and middle fingers to his tearstained cheek. McCoy's apology was strangled into silence by this gesture, and his eyes rose sharply to meet Spock's. Time stopped. And they were frozen like that, McCoy's arm hanging in midair with his fingers held to Spock's face and gazes locked together. No silent conversation this time, nothing communicated. Nothing needed to be. Suddenly there was no hesitancy to be found, and time shocked them back into movement. Spock drew McCoy's hand away from his face and placed the tips of his index and middle fingers against McCoy's, then gently, determinedly, ran them down the length of the doctor's fingers and back up again. McCoy had been around Vulcans enough to know what this gesture meant, but the fission of powerful emotions that surged through their hands and into his brain amazed him. He felt undertones of pain and longing, but he also felt a powerful affection, a love, a need… for him. Completely unafraid, he cupped the back of Spock's neck in his hand and drew him in, guiding their lips together.

* * *

A single devilish sunbeam streaked its way in through the window and poked McCoy in the eye. He grunted and waved his hand in front of his face to bat the intruder away. When his attempt failed, his eyes cracked open and the world focused slowly around him. Spock's fireplace came into view, along with empty drink glasses and a knocked-over stack of medical journals resting at eye level: he was lying on Spock's living room floor. Inwardly groaning, he attempted to shift his aching legs. They had been resting against the warm blankets bunched up behind him, but when he attempted to pull the warmth over his body, he found a solid weight was preventing him from doing so. He rolled over to see what was holding the blankets down and came face to face with a blinking Vulcan.

Emotions flickered rapidfire across Spock's face: bewilderment, realization, and surprise transmuted quickly into concern, a flash of fear, and then blankness. They sat up in unison without breaking gaze and stared at each other for what felt like a Vulcan year. Then Spock's eyebrow rose, his head tilted down and to the left, and he gathered breath to speak. McCoy immediately recognized the expression and knew Spock was about to apologize and withdraw. Before McCoy was even consciously aware of it, he knew he didn't want that to happen and reached out, lightly running his fingers down the line of Spock's jaw to settle curled under his chin. Spock immediately responded with an identical gesture. The touch was all that was needed for a flood of affection, love, and above all acceptance to course between them, a flood that was so strong neither man could tell where his feelings ended and the other's began. Momentarily an image of Jim smiling flashed in their mind's eye and joy formed another current in the flood.

The rest of the day proceeded as any other, Spock going to work while McCoy explored Vulcan, with Spock joining him at his tours of the lava paths through the desert in the evening. That night they stood on the hovercraft platform as McCoy was preparing to catch the redeye flight back to Earth to resume his medical practice the next morning. McCoy stared at Spock for an infinite second, trying to form a question. Then a thought of Jim flashed through his head. He felt the Vulcan's thoughts bubble up in the back of his mind along with traces of Jim. Spock reached out and clasped his hand.

"Return soon, doctor."

McCoy smiled.

"I will, Spock."


End file.
